


paper planes

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Doggy Style, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Interracial Relationship, Light BDSM, Masturbation in Shower, Missionary Position, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slurs, steve being a puppy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: you, a independent, black woman with a knack for photography and a voice that could melt butter.and steve rogers, a babbling man with a penchant for getting into fights and sketching pretty things..including you.what happens after? that's history.





	paper planes

**Author's Note:**

> idk if i'm continuing this, i likely will but only until i'm no longer a stressed kid in classes. 40s vibes because skinny steve is VALID and i love him. anyways.

Steve remembers every bit of that day he met you and not a detail ever wavered. Like you had left an imprint in his memory, that lingering scent of spring that remains even as the seasons change. And while there was plenty of others that might have harped him over it, he won't regret it, he won't forget how you made him feel and he sure as hell won't change his mind in regards to his first impression. You were beautiful, a fallen star that walked among the bleak streets with clicks of overused, ruby heels that had scuffs from when you must have scurried around in a bluster. The remnants of a light perfume- roses? Lilies? He couldn't provide a straight answer yet because in order to do so, more time in your presence would have had to been required. Fortunately, that brief moment he made eye contact with your soft, brown ones was one of many that would be soon to come... but until then, he, a willing disciple, relished the possibility that such a goddess may only appear for a second. And God, is it worth it. 

Your hand was cradling a black purse with a broken strap, hair slicked back beneath a faded, lavender cap with wry curls that framed warm cheeks. A dimple- maybe a birthmark? He couldn't discern that at the time but it just adds to that bubbly, sweet nature you exude. A curvy waist with wider hips, legs that hid under a below knee skirt covered in a light, checkered pattern... and honey, brown skin that almost glowed in the sun. The most breathtaking experience he wasn't expecting, a miracle Lady America decided to bestow this skinny, little man from Brooklyn, with arms thinner than wheat and clothes that were two sizes too big. Lips dry, his tongue flicked out, fingers twiddling around a pencil with a few, distinct bite marks in them. While you were walking briskly along the sidewalk, so _close_ that Steve felt that he could almost  ** _touch_** you should the thick glass between you both did not exist, he was cooped up in a busy diner with a cold plate of meatloaf and a lukewarm water he hadn't bothered sipping since his wandering eyes took to you. Something definitely worth his time, accompanied with thoughts that leave him anxious- what's your name? Where are you going, where are you coming from? Are you nearby, are you.. 

"Come on, Steve...get a hold of yourself." Mumbling, his fork stabbed and nearly missed his plate, graphite mindlessly scraping at thick paper. His sketchbook barely propped, the hesitation that often came with a possibility of strangers growing nosy of his work hardly a concern. He was busy at the time outlining a bird, but now? He only wished that you had stayed a little longer so he could perhaps manage to draw that bright gaze, or dedicate a corner to those lips.. those luscious, pouting lips. Not quite pink and almost  _begging_ for a kiss. "...Oh jeez." Steve managed to fall out of his stupor, earning a few untimely stares from nearby customers as his little inner conflict had become not so inner...something that was barely covered up with his red face and flit of eyes in some poor attempt to fit back in with the environment. It worked, but in the time doing so, he lost sight of you. Lithe fingers curled into a bony fist, that flicker of hope snuffed out in puppy like eyes. Just another pretty sight, going off to who knew where, but this time, he felt his heart thump so wildly at the thought that his first sighting of you was so brief; as if it'd end up as a painful reminder later in the evening when he found his imagination back to you..

 

And then, a faint bell that was positioned right over the main entrance clinked.

 

Clicking heels, a hushed whisper of several men that had gotten from work suddenly vastly interested in who ever had slipped inside this little joint.

 

And faint perfume that managed to make even the thickest waft of sweat and greasy foods to diminish. Steve almost choked on his water.

 

_Oh shit_ _. It's **you.**_

 

__

 


End file.
